Owned by Pirates

"Pretty well, I think," I said. "Everyone has been very patient with me."

His crooked smile was warm and genuine. "Miss, it takes everyone a little time to get their sea legs. Heck, it takes some people days just to figure out how not to trip on the ropes on deck. I think you're doing very well so far."

Watching him grin, I’d been wondering how honest and open I should be with him.

"Is there anything troubling you, Miss? I would be happy to help with anything I can."

I took a breath, collecting my thoughts and trying to put them in order. "The only thing that is truly strange to me is that my father basically owned me before, and now the Captain owns me. But he is a complete stranger. It's a bit… unsettling to think about."

Larry reached out to give my hand a little pat, surprising both of us. "Miss, do you think that the Captain treats me as if he owns me?"

"Not at all. You are a member of the crew, and he is obviously the leader. But it's all one big team here isn't it?"

“Five years ago the Captain won me in a game of cards," he said matter of factly. I must have looked astonished, as he la

ughed uproariously. "'Tis true, I swear, Miss. My previous Captain was paring down his crew, and we had never seen eye to eye." He looked uncomfortable for a second. "And I don't mean that as an insult, seeing as he only had the one eye."

"I know what you mean. But he actually risked you in a game of cards?” I shook my head. "That's just… Disrespectful."

"Aye, ‘twas the best thing that ever happened to me," he nodded with a gentle smile, his hands still busy stitching. “Captain Samuels had given me a look first. He asked my permission with the raise of his eyebrow, waiting for my nod before he raised the bet.”

I smiled to myself. That certainly sounded like the Captain I was getting to know.

"Our Captain truly cares for his crew, Miss, and listens to those who have something to say. It is a wise man who takes advice from all who are brave enough to give it."

"And you don't feel like his possession?" I asked.

"Not at all. I know that if I truly wanted to leave, the Captain would shake my hand and send me on my way. He has never treated me differently than the other men here. I think he wanted to win me because he saw how strong I was, without being ill-tempered."

I grinned up at him. "Well, I am very glad that the Captain was dealt a good hand."

Larry suddenly glanced to make sure no one was around the doorway. Then he leaned in, lowering his voice to a whisper. "Miss, please never repeat this. The Captain is a very honorable man, and as honest as the day is long, except for the thievin’ we sometimes need to do. But once a while, only in cards…" He winked. "The man cheats."

My laugh rang out, bouncing around the small wooden room, making Larry laugh as well.

Then he held out a bit of corner fabric. "Miss Flora, forgive me, but could you fix the point? It takes ten times as long with my thick fingers as it would with your dainty wee hands."

"Gladly,” I said. The feeling of satisfaction of being a member of the crew, and truly contributing to the running of the ship, filled my heart with joy I could never have imagined. I’d always felt like my life was one long struggle against my father. Now I was part of a crew, and we were all headed in the same direction, even if I didn’t know yet where that was.

It was a great relief to know that the Captain didn’t take the ownership of people as seriously as I had feared.

I didn’t even notice how many hours had passed, until I heard a few pans rattle. "Should I stay here and keep sewing, or help McGee with dinner?" I asked Larry.

He had been stitching away in his own little world for a spell. Looking up, he looked at how much of the sail I had edged since we began. “Good grief, Miss Flora. You're unbelievably quick. Sure, leave me to finish up here, and go give McGee a hand."

"Thanks," I said, quickly putting my needles and pins away before rushing into the galley area.

"How may I help?" I asked.

McGee turned with a grin. He seemed quite a good-natured fellow, although a bit quieter than the rest. "Thank you, Miss. I don't mean to give you the dirty work, but if you don't mind scrubbing up those potatoes and carrots."

"Good food is never dirty work," I smiled, pushing up my sleeves and grabbing the brush.

In about an hour, dinner was ready, and I helped fill up the plates, setting them around the table.

I noticed that Davy arrived first, fetching the tin mugs, and pouring out a round of ale from the keg in the corner. Then he turned to me. "Miss, would you like ale or water?"

"Oh. Um, I've never tried ale."